Kato's Curse

Maybe it's because sometimes I focus on the negative things that happen in a day and not the positive.  Maybe it's karma for something I inadvertently said or did?  Or maybe the universe likes to make me laugh cry, because it finds it hilarious that someone can have two separate emotions going on at the same time. 

I do not know the answer to why, every once in a while, things happen to me that I am almost sure DON'T happen to other people.

Take, for instance, Tuesday evening.  Dave and I had FINALLY cleaned our effing pigsty of an apartment (not our faults, construction going on in there for a month).  This made me very happy.  Very happy indeed.  While I am not as anal as I used to be about maintaining a clean home, (I used to be super anal, now I am just normal anal?), I cannot live in filth.  There was dust everywhere, dirty workman footprints, fluff from insulation, grit from whatever....anyway, I digress.  I am just trying to say that I was very pleased with the fact that our apartment was finally livable.

And then Tuesday night came along.  Dave and I weren't feeling so well (he got the bug bad, me, not so much). And when we both aren't feeling so well things become a bit hard.  Because we both want the other person to do everything to make things easier: make decisions about dinner, tidy up, spoon feed the other....because let's face it folks, we are both babies when it comes to being sick.  

We both agreed that we needed to stop being douches and get in there and get shit done.  Together.  So while I began to make us dinner, Dave opened up a can of tuna to feed the cats (normally we cook for them but we needed to pick up stuff to do that).  As he moved to place one of the bowls on the floor, he dropped it.  No.  THREW it would be a better description.  Poor guy had fumbly fingers.  The tuna went EVERYWHERE.  All over the floor, the little rug in front of the counter (which I had just washed), the fridge, the washing machine, you name it, there was tuna on it.  

Of course Dave felt terrible, but hey, shit happens.  We cleaned up the tuna, threw the rug in the wash, and fed the kitties.  Then it was time for me to wash the floor with the steam mop.  Did I mention I wasn't feeling great?  My body was aching, I was tired and had NO energy.  But whatever, we can't leave sticky tuna juice all over the place.  That's gross.

I begrudgingly mopped the floor.  Holding in my whinging the entire time.  It needed to be done so there was no use crying over spilled milk, right?...................................................................

I finished mopping, thanking whomever there is to thank for comfortable couches and lounge wear, and the fact that I would be experiencing both in under two minutes.  Or so I thought.  As I was placing the mop back in the corner of the kitchen, my butt hit a shelf we use as a pantry.  And an entire open bottle of balsamic vinegar flipped through the air and landed on the floor.  That I had just mopped. 

Dave looked at the floor, looked at me, and said "Just laugh about it, laugh!!".  

I did.  I laughed.  But as I grabbed the mop ONCE AGAIN, I may have shed a few tears.

Or a lot.  Who can really tell when you are laugh crying?